


tidings of comfort and joy

by frozennightmare



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, Reunions, in which i shamelessly merge classic new and big finish, mentions of many who dont make an appearance, oh my stars so many people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozennightmare/pseuds/frozennightmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Clara is plotting.</em>
  <br/><em>Not the evil-pranky-Christmas kind of plotting (although she did consider it and kind of loved the idea), the kind that comes from seeing the owner of a pair of big sad eyes mope around the TARDIS for sixteen hours straight. He doesn’t say anything, but she suspects it’s due to the lack of certain companions traveling with his older selves and his prophetic supposed death on Christmas Day (according to an alien on Androzani, although she’s not sure how much she believes it.)</em>
  <br/><em>She’s got Kate Stewart on speed-dial and a time machine wrapped around her finger. She is a god.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	tidings of comfort and joy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Good Things Do Happen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/997351) by [trinityofone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinityofone/pseuds/trinityofone). 



> Happy Boxing Day, everyone! Meant to post this last night but then 12 happened.  
> I realize a good portion of my audience isn't familiar with classic; but i couldn't resist. Tried to do as many people justice as i could, hope i succeeded.  
> Evvveer so loosely based off Good Things Do Happen, I realize they're not even the same fandom but i love the idea of a zombie christmas.

Clara is plotting.

Not the evil-pranky-Christmas kind of plotting (although she did consider it and kind of loved the idea), the kind that comes from seeing the owner of a pair of big sad eyes mope around the TARDIS for sixteen hours straight. He doesn’t say anything, but she suspects it’s due to the lack of certain companions traveling with his older selves and his prophetic supposed death on Christmas Day (according to an alien on Androzani, although she’s not sure how much she believes it.) Nothing says Happy Christmas like the fact that he has a habit of dying on them. Or at least he has before, and nearly has several other times. Clara doesn’t really remember her stint in the time-stream, other than an awful lot of yelling and a headache over how little sense it made, but she’s done enough snooping afterwards to know there were more than a few others who could still be alive. And the TARDIS seems to have made it her holiday pact to not hate her for a week.

She’s got Kate Stewart on speed-dial and a time machine wrapped around her finger. She is a god.

(Of course, she can’t actually _fly_ said time machine. But there’s got to be a companion who can.)

It starts, funnily enough, at her school, with the old teachers she suspect got her underqualified self her job: Barbara and Ian Chesterton. They’re in their eighties but still kicking, Barbara only giggling when she drops the Doctor’s name and saying she knew all along Clara was traveling with him, and they would love to give him a good Christmas. Vicki’s unreachable (still in Troy, and Clara doesn’t know a TARDIS-flying friend yet), and Susan’s presumably dead on Gallifrey. It’s a pity; she would have loved to drag his granddaughter into this.

One regeneration down, ten to go.

She’s starting to get frustrated with the next round of companions. Kate can hardly track some of them, two don’t even remember the Doctor, and the two still alive are gone the same way as Barbara and Ian- old and hard to find. She finds Ben and Polly eventually, living in Surrey two miles away from each other, neither one hesitating to agree to her plot. Liz Shaw is still on Kate’s call list, as former _Person-Who-Put-Up-With-The-Doctor’s-Shit-And-Actually-Got-Paid-For-It_ , but Sarah Jane calls _her_ , having heard it through the grapevine, and that’s where things really kick off.

“Jo’s already in.”

“Jo?” Clara is sure she’s missing people on her list. Kate doesn’t know everyone.

“Jo Grant, she heard about it from Liz. Clara, this is so sweet that you’re doing this, I can’t wait to see his face. Tell me, is he still wearing that bowtie, or has he regenerated again?”

“Still got the bowtie!” she laughs. Out of all his friends, Sarah Jane has probably met the most incarnations of the Doctor. (Her recent escapade doesn’t really count; he never actually saw her most of those times.)

“Oh, excellent. I called Mickey and Martha Smith- you do know about them, don’t you? You should- and Jack is on-planet for once. Tegan’s been bugging my phone for hours, she’s just as devious as you are, Ace is just thrilled to be invited, and Harry Sullivan called me twice already.”

“Sounds brilliant, except I don’t know half those people.”

“Oh, but you’ll love them! We stick together, his old friends. We’re family.”

“Can Jack fly the TARDIS, by any chance?”

“I think so.” She goes quiet for a second. “Who are you going after? You’ve got to be careful. Timelines and all that.”

“Don’t they just reassert themselves?”

“Only when it’s several variations of a Timelord. Not with humans.”

“Just the offworlders and those stuck a couple centuries back.” she lies. “Peri , Amy and Rory,  Mel, River, Nyssa, Charley....”

“Charley? Clara, she has a fixed ending.”

Shit. Shouldn’t have mentioned her.

“Not Charley, then.” And _definitely_ not Adric, Donna, Romana, Leela or Susan. _Definitely not_ meaning she was going to throw out all the stops in figuring out how to get them there. There had to be a way to do it.

And, if she could....

It would be crazy-hard to do, but if there’s a way to bring Rose Tyler home for a night that won’t fuck with her happy ending, she’s gonna do it. If there’s anyone who understands weird timelines, it’s Rose.

She meets up with Jack on her weekend off instead of jaunting off to the moon with the Doctor (the things she’s sacrificing), decides she despises  the vortex manipulator after about her third trip, and makes him fly the TARDIS once the Doctor’s asleep for everyone else. He’s rubbish at it, but then River shows up and she’s rather brilliant, so in the end everything works out. Sarah Jane is annoyed that she went after them anyways, but Charley and Leela happily accept their gag orders (and Sarah Jane, having adopted her position as co-conspirator, makes sure everyone who might know of their fate is told to shut up as well.) Adric’s a bit harder to quiet, but in the end he gets it (although it’s mostly Nyssa who convinces him.)

It’s Amy who solves the timelady issue- just have River intercept them on the Doctor’s personal timeline, pre-war. Susan’s the hardest to get away, but somehow, just impossibly somehow, there are no world-ending paradoxes.

There’s only two people left, and Clara doesn’t know what to do.

She can basically do nothing about it. Jack doesn’t know Rose’s timeline well enough to know when to snatch her up, and Donna never leaves the Doctor the whole time they know each other for long enough to be in the landing window. Even River can’t pull a weird enough time-travel trick to get her from the TARDIS.  They’re the reason Clara embarked on this escapade, and they’re nowhere to be found.

_You’ve done good_. she reminds herself. _I’m sure he’ll be happy to see the friends you managed to round up._

Sarah Jane’s volunteered her house for the party, and so, in a wave of craziness, she’s hanging tinsel on the twenty-third with Martha holding the other end of the strand down beneath the mantel.

“He’s always busy on Christmas day.” Martha says, playing with the glittery strand. “I don’t know why the aliens like it so much, but they do. Tomorrow is better.”

“I’ve just got to figure out how to get him here without telling him about the whole mess. He’ll know it’s Sarah Jane’s address.” She pauses. “Have you met this version yet?”

“No, but based on the stories you’ve told me, I can’t wait.” That’s what they all say. Clara is suddenly panicky, they’re a day away from this escapade she’s been planning for a month.

“You think he’s going to like it?” she spews hurriedly. “I’ve screwed with a right lot of timelines, I’m scared he’s gonna be angry.”

“You haven’t done any permanent damage.” Martha reassures her. “And if I know that man at all, he’s going to love it. He forgets he has this family sometimes; we just need to remind him of it.”

There’s a massive clatter from the direction of the kitchen, Melanie letting out a very long stream of alien curses, and a general shout about _where is that bird._

“Um..who’s getting the turkey?” Clara asks nervously, walking towards the kitchen.

“River and Charley made a run. There’s no Earth turkey that’ll feed all these people.” laughs Barbara, shooing Melanie away from the smoking oven and rescuing the sweet potatoes. Nyssa is standing awkwardly off to one side, holding a spoon and trying to be helpful. “I’m a scientist, not a cook.” she mutters, but someone had to help the resident cooking queens.

There’s another crash from the living room as Charley and River reappear, dragging some wild-looking bird with three eyes and six wings and Clara prays to whatever relevant deity that it actually tastes like a turkey. Mel starts screaming for Adric to set up the vortex cooker.

Clara decides this is going to be the weirdest Christmas she’s ever had.

The doorbell rings, lost in the craziness and noise, Clara deciding to run for it because the chances of anyone else noticing are slim. “Hello?” If this is Sarah Jane’s mailman or something, she feels really sorry for him.

“Oh, hello! Sorry I didn’t call first, it’s been a bit of a weird day.” And now Donna Noble is shaking her hand and oh my stars what even is her life.

Clara freezes. “Um...you’re not supposed to be here.  How do you know to be here?”

“Don’t worry about that, there aren’t any timelines being destroyed.”

“But-how are you-”

“Shhh. It’s a surprise.”

“Clara, who is it?” Martha yells from inside the house, walking over to meet up with her. “Donna?”

“Are you gonna let me in? Because it is colder than Antarctica out here, and I am freezing!”

“What-I-”

“I don’t have a clue!” Clara cuts her off. There’s nothing left to do except shrug and accept it for the time being.

Weirdest. Christmas. Ever.

......

“Christmas Eve! Where do you want to go, Clara? We could go see the fireworks at Disneyland New New York, biggest ones in the galaxy. We could see the biggest ones in the universe, although they’d probably blind you.”

“Actually, I’ve got somewhere I want to take you.” Clara says nervously.

He’s instantly suspicious. “Where?”

“Let me.” Jack showed her how to change the coordinates on the TARDIS herself so the Doctor wouldn’t recognize the address.

“Who taught you to do that?”

“Just trust me, and don’t look.”

“Ok.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.” He throws down the lever, staring at her as it lands before making for the door.

“Wait!” she shouts, dropping behind him and covering his eyes. She has to stand on her tiptoes to do it, using her other hand to open the door. She can see Nyssa with a hand over Adric’s mouth, keeping the youngest companion quiet; River, Jack , and Donna elbowing each other excitedly.

“Merry Christmas.” Clara whispers, and drops her hands.

For a terrifying moment, he freezes, whirling back around at Clara before turning back to his friends. “What have you done.” he says in shock, voice hollow. “Clara, what did you do?”

“Oh, lighten up, spaceman, she didn’t cause any paradoxes. “ Donna flings herself around him  with a brilliant smile, and Clara’s heart grows three sizes when she sees his face change from world-ending to hopeful. She’s never seen the owner of the big sad eyes smile quite like that. It’s _fantastic._

“Donna.” he chokes, then starts to notice the rest. “Adric, Susan, Romana, Charley... all of you?”

“Nearly all.” Clara corrects. “There were a couple I couldn’t-” She’s cut off by his bear hug, air crushed out of her lungs entirely.

“My friends, my companions.” he whispers. “Thank you, Clara.”

“No, raggedy man,” corrects Amy, “We’re your family. And no one should be without their family on Christmas Eve.”

He looks like he’s seen a ghost- well, he kind of has- but then Mel runs out and announces the turkey’s done but took longer than it should have because _Adric you child you did it all wrong_ and it’s just the right combination of crazy and emotional for it to be the Doctor’s kind of Christmas.

“Looks perfect, Mel!” he says, and tries to steal a wing before Polly grabs him by the shoulders and steers him toward the table that stretches half across Sarah Jane’s house. Clara’s family is small, she’s never had a Christmas dinner this massive before. Sarah Jane and Jo are trying to wrestle Ace into a paper crown- she’s the only one not dressed up, still wearing her bomber jacket- setting it on her head for a fraction of a second. The instant Sarah Jane’s turned her back Ace snatches it off and throws it at Clara, who shoves it over the head of the Doctor. Christmas insanity, it’s starting already. Maybe this’ll be a little bit of that pranky-evil Christmas as well.

Mel keeps beating the Doctor away from the turkey before handing the knife to Leela, and Clara takes her seat next to Amy. They’ve ended up in chronological order somehow, Barbara and Ian at one end and her and the Ponds at the other. It’s almost bizarre: Barbara and Ian, old and grey, sitting next to the student who hasn’t aged a second; Tegan and Nyssa, both approaching sixty, berating the friend who’s still a teenager.

“We’re the old folks home here.” Ben jokes from his end. “Except for a few.”

Rory laughs. “Save me a chair, yeah?” He’s gone a bit gray around the edges, it’s been more than a few years for him since the angels.

“Oi, I believe I beat all of you.” the Doctor cuts in, and Clara slides a hand over his. “You okay?” she whispers.

“Of course I’m ok. I’m better than ok.” He pauses. “For now. Sooner or later, they have to go home, go back to their lives. Go back to being dead. I still want to know how Donna remembers me.”

“I don’t know, she just kind of showed up, like some sort of miracle.”

“Yes. I guess. A Christmas miracle.” He’s holding out, she knows, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She’s scared of what will happen when it does.

..........

“He’s going to die tomorrow, isn’t he?” Clara says to Amy, perched on the couch after dinner with a glass of wine, watching her Doctor hang onto his granddaughter, rambling about some escapade. “There was this seer on Androzani, and I didn’t want to believe it, but now I’m not so sure.”

“I can’t see the future.” Amy replies. “But yeah, I think he is. This feels too much like a last bow.”

“What am I going to do if he does?”

“You keep going.” Amy delegates, “You realize that he isn’t everything, although he likes to believe it. You stay with him, and you move on. It won’t be easy, I know, but in the end what you get might turn out to be better than what you had. And sometimes, impossibly sometimes, those things you lost...they come back.”

She gets up and the doorbell rings.

“Who’s that?” freezes the Doctor, counting companions like he’d count sheep.

“Oh, finally, thought they were gonna be late.” Donna rolls her eyes. “Can’t trust that man to ever be on time, even if he is a human being.”

“Donna?”

She’s already marching towards the door, nearly crashing it into the wall with the force of its opening, Clara half a step behind. “Where the hell have you been? “ she shouts, in the way the Donna does without actually being angry at all. “I’m dealing with Mr. Grumpy Gills over here.”

The woman raises her head, that half-second of nervous panicking vanishing from her face while Clara is frozen to her spot behind Donna.

“Oh my stars.” she breathes. “It’s you, it’s really you. But I didn’t even-”

“Oh, come on,” says the man with her, “do you really think you could circumvent all those timelines without Rose noticing? Who do you think was helping you? I’m the Doctor, by the way. Well, the second one here.”

“Yes, I know who you are!” Suddenly, the other shoe drops, and it’s not the world-shattering explosion she expected. “But Donna- Rose, did you-”

“Yeah, that was me. Don't really remember doing it, but still-"

“Donna, who is it? Who’s there?” calls the Doctor from the other room, getting up from his chair. Behind him, Martha latches on to Mickey’s hand, squeezing the life out of it as she realizes.

“Not forever.” Rose finishes explaining to Clara. “I couldn’t bring her back forever. It’s just for tonight. But tonight-”

The Doctor, the first one, is stopping dead, something caught on his face she can’t read, and of every reunion tonight Clara can’t really place this one on the scale.

“Rose.” he breathes. “ _Rose_.”

“-tonight’s a night for lost things being found.”

When he dies in the silence of his TARDIS, this is what he remembers. He remembers Mel yelling at him to eat because he’s still skinny as a stick, Polly shoving a succession of paper crowns on his head, Ben and his old sailor’s stories. He remembers Barbara and Ian embarrassing the shit out of his granddaughter- oh, Susan, he misses her already, and part of him wants to rip open any door to Gallifrey to rip her and Romana free, fuck the consequences. He remembers Martha and Rory and their game of _that one time he was an absolute idiot_ and Amy burying her face in her perfectly manicured hands and sighing _how did we even survive_ and Mickey not even missing a beat and replying _you didn’t_ ; Charley and Clara swapping stories about London in the old days and the perils of running around with him in those awful skirts; Rose perched on the top of Sarah Jane’s tiny couch, fingers laced into the hand of her Doctor, laughing at some story of days gone by. How odd it is to see his own old face again, beside his Rose,  in jeans and a Christmas sweater like any other human being, swearing that the only reason they were late was their temperamental baby TARDIS. He remembers Peri helping Harry clean the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, brazen American accent too obvious in a room full of Brits. Donna, always Donna, bringing him back to earth as she does, snapping at him over the River fiasco.  She means well; they all do. Their hearts are so much bigger on the inside.

And now he sits and waits, waits for the regeneration’s poison to take its toll and stop his heart dead in his chest, for everything he was and lost and loved to die. He will be only a story to the next man, and these people who dance around in his head even still will just be side characters again.

They’re more than that, though. They’re family, he may have lost his first when Gallifrey burned but now he has another one, one he made. And although most can’t come back, for a moment he had them all.

Clara’s still got Kate Stewart on speed-dial, there are still a few who wouldn’t break the universe if he saw them. He doesn’t want to die, but dying has to be the end.

The clock in his head is ticking to a stop, Clara clinging to the TARDIS in fear as she watches him go up in flames.

Time to let go.

 


End file.
